Friday, August 30, 2013

Part 183 - Lost, Meaning it's Time for Prayer Again

From Snoqualmie Pass to Stevens Pass, it’s
seventy-five miles and a four-day walk, and over the course of these four days,
I will climb a total of 18,771 feet, or the equivalent of three and a half
miles, and descend 17,711 feet, just less than three and a half miles; it’s
going to be a real roller-coaster ride.

I was on the trail by six thirty this morning,
and right out of the chute, it was a steep, strenuous three-thousand-foot climb
to Ridge Lake. Often, the trail was nothing more than a sinuous line blasted
from the side of a cliff, which then followed along the craggy crests before
dropping two thousand feet to meadowlands.

The first ten miles of the trail from Snoqualmie
Pass to Ridge Lake was popular with day hikers, and there were a lot of them on
the trail today. I found it pleasant to visit with each group I passed;
many hike with their dogs, which made me a little leery considering the run-in
Brownie and I had with the German shepherds several days ago.

Rugged high peaks, steep slopes with trails
carved from the side of the mountain, crystal-clear lakes in basins far below
the trail, were all reminders of the resplendent beauty of California’s John
Muir Trail through the High Sierras.

After traversing the rocky trail along Chikamin
Ridge, the trail began a gradual descent to two lakes called the Park Lakes.
Before long, I found myself standing at a trail junction, with a Forest
Service sign tacked to a tree that read Horse Camp and an arrow pointing off to
the left. The trail on either side of the tree was equally well worn into
the dirt and either could be the actual PCT. My prior experience with
signs that read Horse Camp meant that a special camp had been set aside for
equestrians, and riders and horses should proceed there if they wanted to camp
for the night.

Normally, it didn’t mean that the official trail went
through the camp and continued on.

With that thinking in mind, I opted for the
right-hand trail and followed it some distance. As I did so, I noticed that a
number of other trails began branching off from the trail I was on and
eventually my trail just wandered into the brush and petered out. I now
realized that the trail I had been following was not the PCT and I would need
to backtrack to get back to the wooden sign nailed to the tree and the trail
junction.

This backtracking should take me back along the
trail I had just hiked on and return me to the trail junction, only it didn’t.
After walking a bit, I passed a small pond that I knew I hadn’t seen when
I first descended the trail, which meant I was lost.

Lost – the very thought of the word sent terror
spreading through my mind and body. I was experiencing my worst fear
concerning my hike; I had read trail journals of other hikers who had been lost
and how they just started bushwhacking through the undergrowth until they
reconnected with the trail. I know this was not something I could do.

I had passed many trails on my return trek;
where I went wrong, I didn’t know, as the trees and bushes all looked the same.
I tried to visualize what things looked like when I first descended the
trail, and then tried to recreate in my mind how to get back on the same path,
but it was hopeless.

There were high, rocky cliffs all around me and
the subalpine forest stretched on forever; besides that it was dusk, with not a
lot of daylight remaining. I knew I couldn’t spend time frantically
searching for the correct trail; I would only become more confused. My
thoughts returned to the missing person’s notice I had seen taped to the glass
window of the entrance door to the Summit Inn about the eighty-year-old woman
who hadn’t been seen in two weeks

.

I was fearful and knew I must control my rising
anxiety. The correct trail couldn’t be far; I just needed to find the
right secondary trail that would surely lead me back to the official trail.

There is a famous painting by Arnold Friberg
depicting George Washington at Valley Forge; the painting is titled The
Prayer at Valley Forge. In the painting, it is winter and
Washington is kneeling in the snow in the attitude of prayer and supplication
to God, presumably asking for guidance and inspiration with the war effort –
the American Revolution. His horse is standing beside him, frosty breath
stealing from its nostrils.

I remembered a passage of scripture that has
always been an inspiration to me, and it reads:

“If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask God, who
giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not, and it shall be given
him.” (James)

At this moment, I needed wisdom; I needed
understanding; I needed inspiration. In short, I needed to know how to
get back on the trail, and quickly, before it got any darker, and my anxiety
levels went through the roof.

Like Washington, I knelt on the ground, and
poured out my heart to my Father in Heaven, pleading for guidance and
inspiration, that I might know, without hesitation, which of the secondary
trails I needed to take, in order to get back on the official PCT.

I’ve had enough experience with prayer to know
that my request would be answered. It may not be in my time frame or in
the way I desired it to be answered, but it would be answered, as my Father in
Heaven knows what is best for me.

The rugged and beautiful mountains between Snoqualmie and Steven's Pass.